Days in the Life
by BelleAngeli
Summary: Sometimes people do not end up in the world they chose. When someone wanders into the lives of the X-Men, they find themselves changed by her and she by them.
1. The Home We Know

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but oh god how I wish I did. I would like to say that Remy LeBeau, Logan, and Victor Creed belong to Fox and/or Marvel respectively...but they advise me to say they belong to themselves, or else.

A/N: Re-uploaded with minor edits to grammar, spelling and time line. I ran spell check the first time I wrote it, but apparently it didn't do a great job. I also fixed my present versus past tenses.

Part 1 – The Home We Know

My name is Devlyne Roberts. This is my story.

I cannot recall how I came to be on this particular version of Earth. Nor do I know exactly how I came to provide company to a powerful mutant named Magneto. I do know that I once had another name. I owned two cats, a single bedroom apartment and had a good job. If you really want my opinion, I think we all get stressed out and seek an escape. Apparently, I sought mine in a world full of mutants. That is not to say that I regret the decision in coming here; I do not. This experience has been one of the finest of my life, despite how it started out and how it might yet end. I take this time to warn you, dear reader, that in the pages below you will find an account of my time spent with a group known as the X-Men, a brief history of my first encounter with the being named Magneto and subsequent taking leave of him. There will be love between people who perhaps do not warrant it in your eyes. But, reader, this is my story, not yours. So I will set it down as faithfully as possible and hope that you will do me the honor of reading it.

I warn now, reader, that my memories of the beginning are not entirely clear. To this day, they remain fuzzy and at times a bit inaccurate, so I apologize ahead of time. I have no wish to describe every step we took or the detail of every flower. I simply want to get this account down to paper before I cannot recall it anymore. If you feel that you can continue, please, do.

He informed me that his name was Victor Creed, but that I should call him Sabretooth. Informed makes it sound as though Creed were a polite or particularly sensitive creature. Let me inform you at once that this is a mistaken thought and please abandon that line. He is a cold, hard creature whose mutation is mostly seen in his hands and by the length of his eyeteeth. That said, Creed became my constant companion whenever I required company and assistance with the tasks that were set before me. In the end, for reasons that were only known to him, he decided that the duration of my stay with Magneto was over. He left the door open on his way out. I stole files, you see, the day I left that place. Files whose importance I had not yet guessed at, and would not, for some time still. I was glad to be done with this tiny part of my existence. I do not like being other people's experiments; a trait which has followed me the duration of my stay with the X-Men.

I remember the first time I saw Remy LeBeau. He was leaning against the stone pillar of the great gate which barred passage up the driveway to Xavier's School for the Gifted. "Chere...you got business here?" Smooth as silk, that voice, the Cajun ringing lightly to my ears. I found it a welcome sound, having been so long away from the New Orleans of my own world so wished he would speak more. He was waiting though, watching me with those red on black eyes and hoping that I would answer before he had to defend the mansion against the human. That's right. I'm just a plain ol'human woman. Or was, once. My silence was well used, studying the man before me with a critical eye; Long coat, brown, gloves, long hair that was auburn in color and silky looking in texture. He was beautiful in his own way.

"I need to speak with Charles Xavier, please."

"Yer 'xpected, chere..." Well. I supposed that made sense, as Charles Xavier was a telepath according to Magneto. I should have been skeptical about all of this, anyone else would have been, but somehow it came as natural to me to accept it as it was to breathe. After all, it's not every day one ends up in a fantasy world with a beautiful young men leading the way. We paused just outside a garage, gazing in at a shorter, muscular man crouched by a Harley Davidson, tinkering with the various moving parts. "Logan, homme.." He straightened, gazing at Remy and I just outside, those eyes piercing through me, then up and down once or twice, before returning to the bike once more. A cigar. I noticed a cigar in his mouth, though it did not seem to be lit at the moment which was probably a good thing as I could smell gas. Logan. That name was filed away for reference later.

"Whatcha want, Cajun?"

"Pr'fessa wants ta talk ta ya..."

"So tell Chuck I'm busy..." His eyes flickered up to the two of us once more. They were blue, bright blue in fact. The type of blue that one sees in the sky right before sunset's colors take over and wash it in pinks and reds. An amused smile played across my lips, judging this man to be mostly of bad temper. It didn't help that I was pretty certain I stood almost a full head taller than him, being tall for a woman at five feet nine inches. "Who ya got there? And why the hell she keep starin' at me, Gumbo?" Those eyes flickered up at me again, teeth bared in a snarl around the cigar. I took this as my cue to take my leave and stepped away, out of sight. There was no point in provoking the man; he seemed animal enough to do just about anything. They resumed their conversation as though I wasn't simply just around the corner, exchanging the basic idea that the professor wanted him so that he could deal with me, should I prove to be a danger. Not that, mind you, any of the X-Men couldn't have dealt with me easily enough. I suspected it was something more, but paid a mind not to be offended.

Charles Xavier was exactly what I had expected him to be from description and what I had read in my stolen files. He was an older man, perhaps in his forties, seated in a fancy wheelchair that had been adapted or created for him. His brow was not in the least quizzical; no, rather, I had the feeling that he always knew almost precisely what he wanted and why. "Do you have a name?" Well of course I did. If I had somehow managed to reach thirty years of age, I had damned well better have had a name to go with it. A smile brushed fleetingly across my lips. It was a silly question, in my not so humble opinion, and I took a moment to consider how best to answer it. Should I give him my given name, or perhaps the name I had chosen for myself?

"Devlyne Roberts."

His look was speculative. I know that he knew I was lying, but the name was as good as any, and I did not know how long I would be here. "We are here to help any and everyone, but... this academy is for the Gifted..." A single eyebrow raised, watching him. Was he turning me away because of my apparent humanness? That made me laugh outright, at last coming to drop into a chair across from him. Logan and Remy were guarding the door behind me, should I choose to run, but this was not an option. If I did not find safe harbor here, I would not find it anywhere.

"I realize that I'm not like you and yours. That doesn't make my need for help any less than theirs, however...especially as it concerns an old friend of yours."

Logan's hand clamped down hard on my shoulder, squeezing. I was certain it would bruise later, but that seemed unimportant next to the low growl I heard building in his chest. "Watch your mouth, woman..." Fingers lifted, brushing aside brown hair, turning my gaze up to him with a smirk to rival Remy's on his best day. My slender fingers dropped to his, slowly attempting to pry them from my shoulder. "Logan!" The professor's rebuke sharp, but not hard. He was fond of this Logan.

"I was watching my mouth...Logan."

His hand was removed, at least, and once more I was left sitting comfortably enough. "Which … old friend?" He knew. I could see it in those eyes. I doubt there was very much that passed by Charles Xavier without him knowing, though I had not yet felt any foreign invasion of my brain. I wondered, however, would I recognize it should it happen? Somehow, I did not think so. They were waiting, you see, and while I had sat here pondering the inevitability of the professor invading my mind, time had actually passed. Someone cleared their throat and my head snapped upwards, blush rising to my cheeks.

"Sorry...He called himself Magneto."

"Where did you go, just now?"

The question was direct. Charles had not even flinched at the name, meaning I was right in the first place. He had known what I was about to say. "I was curiously following the idea that you might prise into my mind..." His eyebrows raised and I saw that such a thought had offended him, though he raised his hand to stop my apology. He understood. Wasn't that the sort of thing that most people would worry about when first meeting a telepath? Still, I had not meant it to be an insult so much as a private thought and now I felt ashamed that I'd had any such thoughts. "Sorry."

"It is an understandable fear." I had not said I was afraid and wondered that he would make the inference so easily. Either way. "You may stay with us, though I will be securing you on the third floor of the mansion...next to Remy and Logan. The children and other adults here, save for Ororo Munroe, do not venture to the third floor, so you should be relatively undisturbed." What he really meant was that I should keep from disturbing them. That, and with Remy and Logan both there, I would be well guarded against my own folly and the folly of others. To be honest, I had no idea what it would mean to spend my time on this floor with these two for my partial company. I assumed they would be company. That was my mistake. A glance back told me that they were, indeed, my guards.

"A plush prison cell for the human...thank you, Professor Xavier."

Logan growled low in his throat, warning me that I should further watch my tongue. I wanted to flip him off, but refrained, instead lifting my only possession to one shoulder. My current net worth was one backpack full of files and one change of ragged clothes. How far I had fallen since my two cats, apartment and good job. Even then, I did not think I would ever see it all again, so instead resigned myself to this fate with little hope for the future. Once these files were safely in the Professor's grasp, there would be no further use for me and they would have no reason to keep me protected here. I knew this, so held tightly to my secrets, hoping to find a way out. "I believe we can provide you with clothes if you need them. And the kitchen is open to you, but I warn you to stay out of the rest of the house..." Do not mingle with my students. That's what the message said. I was an outsider, and while mutant outsiders were welcome, potentially dangerous humans were not.

It was Remy who led the way upstairs, with Logan trailing behind acting as rearguard. My gaze was curious over the teenagers and young adults that I saw, studying each and every face before at last looking away. A growl from behind warned me that my actions were being closely watched, so I averted my eyes to the floor, choosing instead to wonder where exactly Charles had managed to come up with that particularly hideous shade of carpet. It must be very good at hiding stains, because I could not imagine that he had picked it for it's beauty. One flight of stairs, then two and I was in the vacant hallway of the third floor. Not even a table or two for decoration, just...a hallway that seemed to run on for miles.

"It's just the three of us...so don't get any ideas, got it, kid?"

Oh. I had plenty of ideas, believe me. A faint smile twitched across the corner of my mouth, eyes lifting to his a few moments. "Wouldn't dream of it..." What was it that I had called Creed to anger him? Fuzzy. This man reminded me very much of my friend, so I vowed to, at some point, use that pet name with him as well. Logan was not fuzzy, however, but rather angry looking and I convinced myself that he might be mean as well. "Thanks..." My eyes on the door they had led me to, pushing it open before stepping inside and letting the door close behind me. Spartan. Bed. Dresser, Nightstand, Chair. That was it. That was what my once grand life had been reduced to. I wanted to sit down and cry.

So I did.


	2. The Home We Miss

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but oh god how I wish I did. I would like to say that Remy LeBeau, Logan, and Victor Creed belong to Fox and/or Marvel respectively...but they advise me to say they belong to themselves, or else.

A/N: I'm what's commonly known as a leisurely updater. I update as the idea comes to me. That takes days, weeks, months or years in some cases. I try to be faithful, but sometimes, I just lose the muse. I will try to update as often as possible, but just don't expect it on a schedule.

Chapter 2 – The Home We Miss

"Cherie?"

He had not knocked at my door and nor did I feel that he probably felt the need to. After all, I was the intruder in this place, not Remy. I had taken to calling him that the last few days, in my head at least. You see, we rarely addressed one another or acknowledged one another. I left my room to eat, to take a turn about the grounds of the mansion, and to get a book from the library to leave. Otherwise, I had all but become a shut-in. My courage was almost up high enough to request a computer from the professor, so that I could amuse myself on the internet, but I had not gotten to the point of asking just yet. So when Remy LeBeau actually sought out my company that rainy afternoon, I guessed that something special must be happening. Hours before, I had heard the great din of children outside, mulling about the grounds, getting into cars and buses. "Les enfants... de children, cherie, dey is gawn onna field trip..." As though he were hinting that this would be the perfect time for me to actually leave my room and interact with the adults there.

Silence greeted him, I flipped a page in my book, keeping my back to the door as I rested on the edge of the bed. Professor Xavier had no desire for me to mingle within his house and I had no desire to do so myself. If Logan was any indication of the type of person here, I was better off holing up in my room until I could figure out what to do with myself. I suppose I am describing the Professor in the very worst way. It isn't that. He's a very good man, all in all, who has done exactly what needed to be done to protect his students. When a human, a mere mortal, shows up indicating that they have been hanging around a highly powerful mutant, such as Magneto, who does not particularly like humans, well, suspicion is understandable. "Cherie..." He was knocking now, lightly, tapping on the door in a particular rhythm. I thought I recognized the tune but could not place it at the moment, at last tossing my book aside on the desk, trying not to 'stomp' to the door.

He fell back as I tugged the door open, gazing up at the tall, lanky form. "I have done as I was asked. I have stayed out of everyone's way, I have been a good little girl...what?" I wish I could say that he was taken aback by my outburst, but quite the opposite, the damned Cajun seemed to have expected it. He had that smug expression on his face, the very one I had witnessed that first day at the gate, eyeing me up and down a few moments, taking in my somewhat dishelved clothes.

"Professa wants ta see ya...."

"Is that all you can say? God..." A hand rubbed at the back of my neck, rubbing the stiffness from leaning over books for hours. It did seem to be a reoccurring theme with him, always coming to fetch me for the professor. We had talked twice more since my 'incarceration' on the third floor. He knew I was hiding something, of course, but had yet to prise it from my mind. I took this as a sign of encouragement. In fact, our last visit together had dwindled into a debate over the meaning of Ivan Illytch. Admittedly, it was very nice to have someone to speak to about literature. I imagined if I actually asked Logan or Remy, they could probably have provided knowledge on those points as well, but....well one does not speak to the guards, only the jailer. It just isn't the right thing to do. I went, of course, following him down without Logan in tow for once. Something told me that the big man got tired of being my jailer every day and often took off for time by himself. Not to mention, if Remy couldn't handle one little human, well...

Our meeting this time was not in the large office full of books, but in the central dining area for the mansion. Lunch had been laid out with five places, meaning someone else was intending to join us. Remy. Professor. Logan. Myself. My head canted lightly in thought of whom it could be, drawing out a chair and settling in beside the professor. "Professor. I do apologize for keeping you waiting. I was enjoying antagonizing M. LeBeau." Xavier laughed softly at this, a look passing to Remy and with it, no doubt, I was certain a thought that he should not take offense at my crude behavior.

"I thought, Devlyne, that it might be nice for us to have lunch together today, to discuss certain developments." Developments. Surely this could not possibly be a good thing. "I also wanted to deliver your mail to you, as I thought you might like to hear from your friends." There was something in his eyes, something in the way he said it. My head canted lightly, considering this. I didn't have any friends here, well, just one, but he was not the type of person who would come here. In fact, I was fairly certain that he wasn't welcome here at all, but did not voice this aloud. Instead my head canted, hand lifting to reach out to the professor, to obtain the letter that was now pressed into my hand. The writing was an unfamiliar scrawl, but the faint impression of scratches left behind, that was familiar.

"Victor."

I could not help the smile, as I tore the note open and read it, my eyes darting quickly back and forth over the pages. He had nothing particularly good to impart to me, but nonetheless, it was good to see his writing. Almost as good as seeing him in person, almost. "He says that wherever I've managed to hide myself, I should very well stay there. Apparently, Eric intends to flay me before he kills me....oh, and he says he knows about..." I trailed off. That's right. I hadn't told them yet, folding my note up to finish later. "He says he knows about my grand escape." The note was tucked away, shoved into my pants pocket. I suppose to an outsider who knows the story of Victor Creed, finding out that he writes letters and tolerates a human, well, it must seem a bit odd. I assure you, it truly isn't as odd as you think. Victor was comfortable with me, on a level, but that did not mean that he had taken to all humans. In fact...not at all.

"I assume by Victor, you are referring to Victor Creed..." He would know that, of course, based on the impressions gathered from the letter. "As in, the dangerous mutant known as Sabretooth." A sip taken from his glass, tea I thought but could not be certain. My eyes followed these movements, as Logan joined us at last, a young woman with him. He had a scowl on his face, dropping in the chair to my right, as the Professor was sitting on my left. Well guarded, as always. The young woman, a red head, took a seat between Remy and Logan, smiling.

"Dr. Jean Grey." Her hand offered to me. I eyed it suspiciously a few moments, before at last taking the offered hand and shaking, then drawing back.

"Yes. Victor Creed. He is … a friend." If I had known the reaction I would get to that, I never would have said it, not like that. I thought nothing of Victor being my friend, nothing of saying his name so easily. I barely had time to register the growl, before Logan had me out of my chair, arm twisted behind my back, and me backed into the wall behind me. He was in my face, snarling, I could see the teeth, I could see the anger in those blue eyes now speckled with gold. "You're hurting me..." I gasped this out, trying to twist out of his grasp, but he only tightened his hold, staring down down into those eyes, hoping like hell that when he tore me apart he did it quickly. "What did I say?" Schnick. Claws. I saw the metal sliding out of his hands, saw the gleam in the light around us, saw that he intended to kill me right then and there for what I'd said.

"Logan!"

The Professor. They had been forgotten in those few moments, that there were people there, behind us, watching what was happening. Someone was up, trying to pry Logan's hands off of me, trying to stop him from killing me. Remy. I saw the red on black eyes, saw the almost frantic look in them. "Homme, let de fille go..." His hand fisted in Logan's shirt, tugging on him, trying to get him to release me. I was hurting. I was fairly certain I would be hurting for a long time after this. My lip caught between teeth, worried there, staring into those eyes. Staring into that blind hatred. I understood, at last. I understood that I was now caught in a world that would never really be mine. So I lashed out. I kicked hard, as hard as I could, right up into Logan's groin. I knew it wouldn't stop him, but just stun him, long enough to get away. It hurt. I was surprised how much kicking him hurt, like his body wasn't...right. It gave the delay I wanted, it allowed me to wrench free and go scrambling away.

Remy was there, blocking Logan from me, cards in his hand. I could see the faint pink glow, could hear the Professor in the background, dimly. "Logan! Enough!" This situation was spiraling out of his control, way out of my control, and I was beginning to doubt my chances of walking away. "Chuck, Creed ain't no fluffy animal that writes pretty letters to humans..." He was growling, stalking towards Remy and I.

"It wasn't a pretty letter. He was warning me! He wants me to hide the files and get as far away from New York as I can..." I was moving backwards, away from Remy, stalking to his right, trying to get to the door. I knew that Logan would come after me, I knew I couldn't escape him. He would hunt me down.

"What files, Devlyne?"

"The ones I stole, Professor. The ones I stole and burned in Magneto's laboratory..." Everyone fell silent at that, even Logan, though I could see that he had not given up the hunt. I guess storytelling was in order at that point. My shoulder and arm were throbbing, finger impressions beginning to darken the flesh. The bruises would go away, I was not worried about it. The man had every right to react that way. I don't know how I knew that, but I did know it. He had every right. "The ones pertaining to his research to make more mutants. He said his first machine didn't work the way he intended it, so he was researching. That's how I met Victor Creed. That's how I met Magneto and that's why I'm here. He's experimenting, but I have the only copy of his files...I destroyed as much of his lab as I could, before Victor put me out in the snow and told me to come here.."

They were looking at me like I'd grown a second head. I could understand that, actually. "What are you?" The woman was asking me this, Dr. Jean Grey. She was asking what I was. And I did not know how to answer it, did not know what to tell her or what she wanted me to say.

"I don't know... A lab experiment...or...a pet maybe. I don't know exactly. I do know one thing, and one thing only...I'm not even in the right universe at this point. Where I come from, we don't have mutants... hell, where I come from, we don't even have vampires and demons....we're just, humans and lots of us..." My hand lifted, rubbing at my arm, rubbing at the bruises forming there with a grimace. "I'll go... I wasn't trying to bring danger, I was just trying to ..." Save myself. At the cost of others. I realized the mistake then. I realized what I had done. My eyes must have widened a fraction, then I was gone, darting out the door, up the stairs. I didn't really think I could get my few things and get out, but, hell. There was a tree outside my window that was close enough I could get to it. Sure. I would probably fall, but, it was a better option than staying here.

I think it must have stunned them for a moment, when I darted out the door, because there were a few precious seconds where I didn't hear anyone coming after me. My backpack swooped up, books left in stacks about my room, and then I shoved the window open, and went out it, skidding across the roof and grabbing hold of a tree limb. A very powerful arm went around my waist, dragging me backwards. "Don't be stupid, girl!" Logan snarled in my ear, pressing me back against his chest, as we sat on the edge of the roof, staring down at the ground before. This was not the place to fight him; he might let me fall. I knew though, even in my desire to get away, that Logan would not intentionally let me fall off of the roof. He would rather gut me with his own claws.

Strangely, I was not okay with this fact at the moment. True, gutting me would have spared anything that Magneto might have wanted to do, but a strong sense of self preservation kept my senses intact. I relaxed, slowly. Logan was, by all accounts, a man and an animal. The animal wanted a fight, while the man just wanted me to hold still so we didn't fall off of the roof. Slowly, as I began to relax, I felt him drag us backwards, easing up the low slope of the roof and back to the window. Other hands were on me now, as I was passed through that window, into the room. Steadying hands, careful hands. A glance at Remy LeBeau, then at Logan. Panic. There was anger in Logan's eyes, and something akin to fury in Remy's. I couldn't tell why, I didn't even want to think about why. After all, I had done something terrible. I had brought wrath down upon them.

"Hardly. Do not think so highly of yourself. Magneto has a grudge against us just the same. We are old rivals, he and I. He would have come whether you were here or not, I think." Xavier. A glance at him a few moments, the backpack pulled around, hugged to my chest. "I need to see those files. We need to know what he was doing. What he did to you."

A smile. The corner of my mouth lifted, just slightly. Eyes flickered across the room, to the dresser, studying it, watching it. It was hardly a thought that had the dresser reorganize itself, had it shift and twist its shape until it was something smaller; something petite and compact. That's what he had done to me. "His experiments often result in the death of his research...so what fate, exactly, do you think I'm looking at here, Professor?" I never got an answer. Something hit me from behind, lights exploded before my eyes, and a second later, I felt myself falling. Strong arms caught me, kept me from hitting the hard floor.

Darkness.


	3. The Home We Make

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but oh god how I wish I did. I would like to say that Remy LeBeau, Logan, and Victor Creed belong to Fox and/or Marvel respectively...but they advise me to say they belong to themselves, or else.

A/N: To make it easier, any character speech other than Devlyne, is in italics.

–

Chapter 3: The Home We Make

I end where I began; in darkness.

The vagaries of my last thoughts twisting in twisted dreams before me; clawed hands reaching out to grab, to impale and at last, to watch the blood of my life as it falls slowly to the ground, soaking it in some twisted crimson. I was dead. That much I was certain of. I was dead and the Wolverine had been allowed to kill me, because I was a threat. For one who was dead, awareness came in spurts of feeling. A heaviness of limbs or a twisting of my body as someone moved me. The prick of a needle as something was injected, then blessed darkness once more. The world continued to move on around me and I had no choice but to wait and see when I would surface again. All in all, being dead was peaceful. Sometimes though, the voices came to me, bubbling up through the darkness, like a panic which threatened to well up when a heaviness pressed upon my chest, making it hard to breathe._ "..hold her down...struggling too … Logan, ..arms!" _Something grasping at me, holding me down, so that I could no longer float freely in that darkness. Something forcing me to be aware, to feel touch, to feel pain and I despised it. Why couldn't the darkness stay and simply leave me be? There was screaming, echoing through my darkness, echoing across my pained and fractured psyche. It took me a while to realize that it was me. I was screaming. And then I was being hoisted, lifted, pressed back against a chest, muscles firm behind me. I could feel a heartbeat echoing through my back, through my own chest. A strong hand in my hair, petting it down, whispering in my ear that everything was going to be okay. The voice rough, the voice familiar...

_"Logan..."_ That other voice, the smooth but rough one, hovering so near at all times, no voice I had heard before in all of my days or weeks staying at the mansion. _"See if you can hold her still. I need to get this in..."_ Get what in? Awareness was returning sharply now, my eyes flickering open, the room tilting into view. There were others there, staring at me, watching me, though I could only see them fuzzily in the distance. _"Hank...careful..."_ The voice above and behind me warned, one arm holding me tightly, holding my arms down, pressing me back into that chest. Be careful? Careful of what? Something large, blue and fuzzy loomed into my view. Teeth, fangs, the eyes just a little bit yellowish around the edges. The problem was not the perceived monster. No, dear reader, it was the rather large needle he was holding. My eyes focused on that. I think the others must have seen it coming, because they were moving, but I think even then they knew they were going to be too late to intercept me. _"Hank!"_ I know my captor felt me tensing, I know he knew what was going to happen. My foot lashed out, fast, my back arching against this 'Logan', to brace myself and put more power behind the kick. The needle arced upwards, through the air, landing hard on the floor a few feet away and shattering. Liquid glistened, spilling everywhere. Those arms, like bands of steel, tightened about me, dragging me backwards, across the table I had been sitting on, away from the blue creature, away from 'Hank'.

Hank recovered more quickly than I would have liked, picking himself up, rubbing at his hand and fingers. _"Clearly, this is not going to work! If we don't find some way to hold her down or keep her under ..."_ Keep me under. What was the man saying? Fear burned through my chest, my lungs constricting with it. I was not going to be a lab rat, not for anything. Not Magneto, not these X-Men. It was garbled, jumbled, those figures moving in the background once more. The red haired woman from earlier, Professor Xavier and I thought I even saw Remy hovering there, watching me like some circus freak show. _"Beb, don do dat...."_ Remy's eyes were on mine, staring into them. Don't do what? I wasn't doing anything. My eyes flickered about the room, trying to see what he was talking about, trying to understand. I was caged. I felt caged, like an animal, the arms holding me so tightly I could barely breathe. _"Logan. Loosen your grip. She seems to be more aware now."_ Professor Xavier. His voice even, familiar, I could listen and understand him, I could relax. I was safe. There was something safe about hearing that man's voice. I would think so for years after this. Slowly, by degrees, the grip began to relax and as it relaxed, so did I. Now I could at least begin to look at my surroundings. Medical lab. The sterile smell gave that away, at least. Stainless steel cabinets, odd machinery which I did not recognize, needles laid out on a tray. Needles. A shudder went through my flesh, goose pimples raising along my arms. I know Logan could feel it.

He let go. At last. He let go and slid off of the table I was on. _"My name is Dr. Henry McCoy."_ The blue thing was trying to get my attention. My eyes flickered to him, studying the 'Doctor' a few moments, before nodding lightly. "Devlyne Roberts." I think I would have normally offered my hand to him, but as it was my hands were gripping the edge of the table rather tightly. Ah, there was the door. Just to the left of the crowd watching the circus freak. Well, crowd perhaps wasn't the right word, there were only four of them, now including Logan. His eyes flickered to that door, then back to me, a cigar lifted to his lips as he smiled, daring me. I could see it. He was actually daring me to try to make it to that door. "Fuck you, Logan." My hand snapped up, middle finger raised, before eyes flickered away. Never mind the assorted amused and astonished looks on varying faces. Never mind the dark and yet amused expression that passed across the Wolverine's face.

_"I would like to run a few tests...." _That raised my hackles, as it were. Tests. That's how this had all begun. Someone had wanted to run some tests on the human who wasn't from this particular world. My head canted lightly in consideration of this. "Is that what you were doing, earlier, when I was screaming my throat raw? Trying to run some tests..." Something flickered across Hank's face. They hadn't thought I was aware. I wasn't, not really, but I could remember the scream. "I could hear someone screaming... I'm guessing that was me..." He was nodding then, slowly, keeping his distance. That was a good idea. Keep your distance, stay away from me. I'm dangerous. I've brought danger to this house and then, on top of it, I'm dangerous. Sometimes I do things I don't mean to. Sometimes I change dressers into machine guns....head shook lightly, jerkily, trying to clear those thoughts away. He was just trying to help. At least, that's what my inner voice was saying. Just let him try to help.

No one could help me now. Fingers brushed across my forehead, trying to press at the headache now throbbing behind my eyes, trying to force those pinpricks of light away. _"We were trying to give you a sedative. Do you have nightmares? Problems sleeping? Do you sleep walk?" _Those were odd questions. My eyes lifted to Hank once more, studying the man a few moments, before head shook lightly. "No. I rarely remember dreaming anything..." There was a look given to the professor a few moments, then back to me once more. A tape recorder, laying nearby. A single clawed finger pressed play, my voice ringing out, hysterically through the room. "FUCKING let me go! I'm going to kill you...kill you all! You don't know what you're doing! The end is coming!! He's coming for you..." A cold chill settled in the pit of my stomach, hands gripping the edge of the table once more, knuckles turning white as shoulders hunched forward, hair falling in my face. That voice unmistakable. It was mine. No wonder everyone was looking at me like a circus freak. The dialog went on, more threats, things about Magneto, things about what he was planning. I don't remember any of it though. I don't remember saying any of that. All I remember is that blessed, peaceful darkness. The floaty, drowning feeling. That's all there was, and I was quite happy to remain in it, to settle there and not move again, until they had drawn me back out. I wished right then that I had never managed to wake back up after being hit in the head. I wished that I had remained unaware, in a coma, for the rest of my existence. Because now I knew for certain, as did they, that something was very, very wrong with me. "I don't know....I didn't say it...I don't know..." Pushing off of the table, bare feet hitting the cold floor, pacing back and forth over it a few moments, not seeing how the rest of the room tensed, as though waiting for another outburst. I felt dizzy and unstable. They all thought I was crazy...

More than ever, I wanted Victor. He would make things right again, either by the tips of his claws, or by some offhand sexist remark. Either way, he would balance the world once more. _"How do you feel when you wake up in the morning?"_ Hank again, asking questions. How did I feel? "Tired. I'm always tired." Something was murmured in the background, something I could barely hear, but I can guess what was being said. Remy moved to a computer terminal in the room, logging on and going to work. They had security cameras, I was certain of it. And I was also certain they taped everything, which meant he was checking to see if I had been sleep walking. Absurd though it may sound, I hoped he found something. At least there would be some explanation. Right now, I was just plain crazy. _"Pr'fessa.."_ The Professor had wheeled over to him, was looking over Remy's shoulder, watching the display for them. The way the light flickered, I could tell they were watching it on fast forward.

_"You've been sleep walking at night...Out of the house. To the boathouse..." _Boathouse? While I was not surprised there was a boathouse, I was surprised that I knew where it was well enough to sleep walk to it. "Boathouse? Where's the boathouse?" Logan didn't believe me. I could tell. There was something about the look in his eyes. He didn't believe me. I wanted to laugh. I was pacing once more, hands clenching and unclenching._ "Pr'essa....dass....dass de Sabretooth..." _Sabretooth. Isn't that what Victor called himself? I was moving then, I was moving to stand behind them, to watch the monitors. It was Victor, pausing to stare up into one of the cameras. He knew it was there and he knew they were watching him. Then he was moving on, into the boathouse, the door closed behind him. Nothing after that, no movement, no lights flickering on, nothing but darkness. A hand ran through my hair. Victor. I trusted him. Was he doing this to me? A hand rubbed at my forehead a few moments.

"Jesus Christ..." I went to sit down, not realizing that there wasn't a chair behind me and I would have landed up the floor, had Hank not caught me by the arms, had he not helped me stay upright, guided me to a chair to sit in. He was crouching before me._ "You don't remember any of this?"_ No. Of course I didn't. It was a stupid question. "I have to go tonight....I have to see if he will come. I have to..." I have to demand answers from the one person who could give them. I could already hear their protests welling up. It was too dangerous. **I** was too dangerous to be let out among their precious students. Except, the students weren't here. "No. No, you keep me here and we don't know what he will do. For that matter, we don't know what I will do... you had to have Logan restrain me so you could try to get a needle in my arm...I don't even know if I'm in control when this is happening. I could...blow up the house or something..." Not that that was a terribly real possibility, mind you reader, but the thought did occur to me in this hysterical state. Victor had the answers and I wanted them. I was going to get them, too.

I couldn't be trusted. I couldn't even trust myself. Head dropped to my hands, running through my hair, considering all of this. "I have to go...I can't stay here. It was a mistake coming here...You can keep the damned files, but I'm leaving..." And where would I go? At least I appeared normal. Whatever they had done to me, I at least appeared normal, I could blend in and pass for being completely normal. No one would know the difference. No one except me. _"You said before that you aren't from here...where would you go?"_ Ever the sensible Professor. Of course he wanted to help me now, now I was special. A laugh escaped my lips, bubbling up from deep within, a strangled, ugly sound. "I don't know. I would find some place to go... Maybe try to find out if my family exists in this world, if I could blend in with them..." I had a feeling they didn't exist. Or if they did, I was a completely different person than the one they had raised. Maybe I would go to places I had never seen before, unattached as I was. I could travel out west, see Las Vegas, see Texas, see a few of the places I had only heard and dreamed about. That might be nice. It might be a distraction for a time, and if I wandered aimlessly, maybe no one would find me. I could just get lost in the world.

"Or somewhere else...anywhere but here..." I was running away and I knew it. I would never fit into this place. I would never fit with them and they all knew it, I could see it in their eyes. I could see it in the way they looked at me. Maybe that was my imagination right now. A quick prick in my arm, a sting, then calm followed a few moments later. Damned sneaky doctor. My eyes flickered up to his face, not certain whether I should be grateful or angry. Slowly, but surely, drowsiness came, then the darkness crept back into the edge of my vision. _"This will ensure you get some rest...we'll talk about it later.." _Then someone, I suspect Hank because the fur was soft, was helping me up, helping me onto that table, a crinkly blanket covering me. It was warm though and I wanted to be warm. I wanted to relax, sleep and ...forget that this had ever happened. A faint memory tugged at my brain before I at last succumbed to the darkness. Someone had been running their fingers through my hair. Someone had been whispering sweet nothings in my ear, telling me that I was going to be alright. Logan. Bleary eyes opened, finding him across the room. Something behind that hard stare, something flickering in the depths of his eyes, curiosity, perhaps, my eyes closed and gratefully, I gave in to sleep. I could think about this another time. Right now, all I wanted to do was sleep.

I must have lingered on the edge of it for a while. I felt like I was floating again, drifting in and out on the tide, listening to voices coming and going. _"No danger...don't think...her room...must get her to...."_ Never mind. It wasn't important right now. All that was important was reaching back out into that inky blackness. A single growled voice breaking through my consciousness. _"This is going to hurt, Dev...but I promise, soon, it'll be over...soon...You hafta trust me...no matter whatcha see, you gotta trust me, kid..." _The memory dredged from my sleepwalking, the memory dragged up into the darkness. I could see Victor sitting before me, gazing into my eyes, asking for my trust. This was not the Victor Creed I knew. I understood. At last, I understood. I had to trust. I was floating again, that weightless sensation, but my head was resting against something firm and warm, eyes flickered open, peering at the bristly black hair before me, then closing once more, shifting slightly in someone's arms.

_"Hold still, girl."_ That gruff voice. The Wolverine. I could see a flash of red ahead of us, Remy I though. We were going somewhere, and the Wolverine was carrying me. I held still, hand lifting to wrap about his neck and rest at the base of it, to steady myself. _"Be back in your room inna minute...Hank thinks you'll be more comfortable in your own bed...said for you to go back to sleep. Remy and me, we'll be nearby...y'got it? Y'want something, y'hollar for one of us..."_ His way of telling me to relax, that I was safe. I felt safe. My cheek rubbed against his shoulder, unthinking. He was so damned warm. "Mmkay... " Muttered at last. I sensed he was waiting for acknowledgment. Then, I was drifting once more...


	4. The Home We Abandon

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but oh god how I wish I did. I would like to say that Remy LeBeau, Logan, and Victor Creed belong to Fox and/or Marvel respectively...but they advise me to say they belong to themselves, or else.

A/N: To make it easier, any character speech other than Devlyne, is in italics. And yes, this IS an update.

–

Chapter 4: The Home That We Abandon

I hate sunlight. My brother used to hiss at it and cross his fingers, calling it the 'evil day star' as a joke. Now that I think about it, it really is the evil day star and some part of me half wished I had ended up in a place of vampires and zombies rather than mutants. That aside, I really do hate sunlight. It is so bright and cheerful, exposing every little secret in the world beneath it's hot, infiltrating rays. I especially hate sunlight when I have a headache; it forces my eyes to dilate, causes my head to throb. Someone had not closed the curtains on my window and now that very hateful sunlight was falling across my bed. My head was pounding; from the screaming or the drugs, I do not know. It was pounding and I felt nauseous and hung over all at once. Actually, a hangover would have been welcome compared to the revelations of the night before.

I was here. I was in Xavier's School for the Gifted. I had been sleepwalking. And during that sleepwalking, I had been rendezvousing with a dangerous mutant named Sabretooth who was somehow sneaking on to Xavier's property without him knowing. Ludicrous, I know, right? Except, it was real, all of it. I had spent last night, or yesterday, or whenever it was laying in a lab, drugged but screaming. Despite my complete feeling of peaceful calm, I had been screaming on the outside for help, out of terror. A terror which gripped me now as I threw my hand across my eyes, trying to block out the evil sunlight.

There was a bathroom on this floor, and I needed to get to it. Too bad my muscles protested this idea, though my stomach and body welcomed it. I needed a change of clothes and a hot shower. I needed time to think. The files were undoubtedly already gone. The Professor would have confiscated them after what had happened. I couldn't blame him for that, after all. Fingers brushed through my somewhat shaggy hair, raking it back from my forehead, from my eyes. Time to get up and face the world, Dev. Time to move forward. Unfortunately, moving forward to me meant my grand escape back in to the world to get away from these people. I was probably going to die. That weighed heavy on my mind, though oddly the idea of not getting to go home to my cats weighed the heaviest. I missed my cats. "Penelope...Charlotte..." Mumbled softly a few moments, rubbing at my eyes.

At last, somehow, I convinced myself to get up and get moving; to push the covers back and pull on my only pair of jeans. The one pair of clean clothes I had, a pair of linen pants and a t-shirt, hugged to my chest as I crept out of the bedroom and in to the hallway. The bathroom was there. I could see the door to it and wanted nothing more than to reach the door unhindered. I must have looked very odd, my eyes flickering first to Remy's door, then Logan's, creeping as slowly as possible down that hallway, half hunched like some old woman. It was pointless, and had I any sense, I'd have known that, but there it remained; pointless. If either Remy or Logan had wanted to know what I was up to, they'd have known. Undoubtedly, the Wolverine could smell me out here.

The floorboards, blessedly, did not creak and I made it to the bathroom without a single door popping open to see what I was up to. I half expected to open the door and run right in to the Wolverine, but the bathroom was empty. I was grateful for this, showering quickly, finding an unopened toothbrush in the drawer; apparently they provided toiletries for people who had to 'escape' to get here. It made sense, when I thought about it, really. Not everyone came here because they were accepted, some were runaways. I felt better, more human after all of that. The plan was to creep right back to my room, shut myself in, and pretend I didn't exist. And then, after I'd done that, figure out a route of escape that did not involve diving off of the roof.

Thwarted, again. Remy looped his arm in mine as I stepped out of the bathroom, tugging me close to his side. _"Crepes, chere! An' des oeufs." _I would have to, at some point, explain to Remy that my French was rusty by about fourteen years, and he would have to translate more often. Oeufs...I thought that meant eggs, but I wasn't really sure. And crepes, well, everyone knows what those are...hell, maybe I should just take up French again; though Cajun wasn't really all French. "I..I...not hungry...thanks?" A pleading look upon my face, hoping he would just let me go, that I could escape back to my room and this would all be over. Nope. Not happening. I think his plan was to drag me, over his shoulder, if need be.

I was saved, as it were, from that embarrassment by the rather timely, or untimely depending on one's view, of Logan. The Wolverine had apparently come upstairs to collect us, as the Professor had called breakfast. "I told him, I'm fine...not hungry..." You guessed it, wrong answer. I thought, I swear, I heard a low growl in the man's throat, before he slipped behind Remy and I, forcing us down the stairs by continuing to walk behind us without giving any slack in stopping. Had I stopped, we all would have gone tumbling down the stairs in rather an unceremonious heap. Wouldn't want that now, would I? "I just...I want to read, go back to my room...oh, come on...Remy...Logan...please?" A few grunts, that stupid cat like grin from the Cajun, and suddenly I'm in the dining room wondering why I bothered. A chair pulled out, Logan practically shoving me in it, and then I'm flanked by my guards.

"Yeah, not prison at all..." I mumbled this softly in to my hands, elbows on the table and face buried in them. There really was no winning in this situation, and I knew it. These were strong, powerful people who had trained to be this way. Of course they could handle one unruly human, even if I could bend spoons and make bouquets out of table linens. That wasn't as impressive as metal claws or glowing cards. Fingers ground in to my scalp a few moments, tugging firmly at it, before at last I sighed and relaxed back, leaning back in the chair, shoulders hunched a bit. That woman, Jean, came in and took a seat, followed by a few others I didn't recognize. The Professor was tardy today, being the last to join us. "Ah, Devlyne, good of you to join us..."

I bit back a retort, mainly because a very large hand with all too strong fingers, gripped my knee and squeezed the hell out of it. "Yes, good...hi..." I muttered out, before eyes turned to my plate once more. I felt like I was being paraded about and kept in line; wait, that might be because I was. Lunch was a chatty affair, except on my end, as I chose to simply sit and listen to those about me. There is a lot to be learned by simply listening. True, they avoided any 'secret' subjects, anything I could use to my advantage, but there was still a lot to learn. Logan liked the red-headed Lady. He didn't like the guy wearing the red sunglasses. Remy liked anything with two legs. The sunglass guy's name was Scott, he seemed to be the 'Team Leader' if there was one. He was dating Jean, the red headed Lady. Logan liked to goad him, and, well I have to stay I found it amusing too.

I was contemplating this some time later, sitting by myself on the edge of the roof. It was a long way down. A long way. No one would ever suspect I was afraid of heights, got bad vertigo sitting like this, and yet, here I was sitting. The roof wasn't slanted so badly that I couldn't sit on it, but had enough of a slope that this would be dangerous on rainy days. Today was sunny, bright, and it was nice enough to lay back and open a book, read it. I was right, my files were gone. All of that information, everything I had, which admittedly wasn't much, on Magneto's research. Eyes drifted closed as I thought about this, letting the book rest on my chest. I was never going to fit in here, because I wasn't really one of them. Eventually, this 'super power' was going to go wrong and kill me. And if it didn't go wrong and kill me, I might find some way back to my world.

Ha. Fat chance of that ever happening. Bitterness gripped my heart and thoughts a few moments. Well, it didn't matter. It couldn't matter. I had to figure out my next move. That was why I was on the roof, wasn't it? A hand shaded my eyes as I sat up, peering down at what I could see of the grounds. Lake. Boathouse. Garden. An old nervous habit, pulling at my hair, resurfaced and I sat there gazing down at that building. No doubt it was under surveillance now. No doubt they were waiting for Victor to show up again. He wouldn't. At least, to be honest, I hoped he wouldn't. Trust. I was supposed to trust him, but that tiny little voice in the back of my head had such misgivings. What if he was doing more experiments for Magneto?

It made sense, really. Magneto would need, if not the paperwork of his research, the product of it. A tug at my hair, before I took to biting my fingernails in consideration. There was only one real way to find out; find Sabretooth. My head was beginning to throb once more, fingers pushing at the temples, kneading and pressing. _"Girl! I told you not to go out there..."_ That gruff voice causing my head to throb even more painfully, as I glanced back up at the window. Logan. _"Don't make me come out there..." _I was tempted to, actually. No, better not. My book scooped up as I slid across the shingles, letting myself back in the window, before perching on the sill. "Just getting some air..." It wasn't like they would let me out in the gardens or something, right?

"_Next y'll be tryin' to grow wings n'fly...feet on the floor...not the roof, not nuthin' else...understand?"_ He was jabbing me hard in the chest with each word, punctuating the point. I got it. "_Y'want out, y'ask and we see if Chuck will let you in the garden...if yer lucky..." _A snort. I couldn't help myself, flopping down on the bed like a teenager, rather than the thirty year old I was. "Right, that's going to happen...He'll read the files, figure out what to do with me, and send me off wherever...maybe see if he can 'cure' me...since, you know, I'm afflicted, not like you guys." It was true enough. Their mutations had been born of natural causes...well, maybe not Logan's metal claws, but I still didn't really know the story on all of that.

"_Or mebbe he'll do what he does with all his strays...adopt you..." _Adopt me. Yeah, right. Another shrug of my shoulders, peering down at the book I'd opened. "I don't belong here...I'm not a teenager...I've been through high school and college. And even if he could teach me control, what good does it do me really?" Bitterness. I was having a down day. Looking back, if I'd had my head on straight, I probably never would have said anything like that to Logan. He doesn't like people feeling sorry for themselves. The grunt that followed, and the way he grasped my shirt, yanked me off the bed, and dragged me down the stairs proved that point. He didn't even ask the professor, before he thrust me out into the garden.

I'm sorry to say I tripped and fell down the garden steps, managing to become a most ungraceful heap at Logan's feet. _"There. Outdoors. Go..." _His arms folded across his rather well defined chest, eyes hard on me. He was giving me the chance to run, to get away. I watched him, picking myself up, dusting the dirt away and picking that bit of gravel out of my forearms. Really. I could go, just like that? A step away from him, then another, walking backwards as I watched his face. And then I turned and ran...I admit it...I ran. I expected to hear footsteps chasing me, but they never came. I expected dogs or ...mutant children, but they never came.

In the end, I ran and no one chased me. The gates were wide open. I wish I had pieced together that they had intended this. I wish I'd known what was going to happen next. I ran. I ran out those gates, and off the road, in to the woods. And I ran...I kept running. When I tripped and fell, I got back up and ran some more. I ran until my lungs burnt and my chest ached. I don't know where I thought I was going, or how I thought I was going to get there, but I ran. And when I couldn't run any more, I walked. It must have been hours, because the sun lowered. And then it sank. And then it was gone, and I was left with darkness.

The woods went on forever. Dark, deep. If I kept going much longer, I might wind up back at the gate. For all I knew, I'd been going in circles these last few hours. I did the only thing open to me, at that moment. I found a place to curl up, a hollowed out tree which would provide at least a little shelter. I curled up, and I hid. For the first time, I truly had no place to go. My forehead pressed lightly to my knees, eyes squeezed shut. I knew that a telepath such as Charles Xavier could find me, if he really wanted to. And if he could, others could as well. Was it a test? Had I failed it? I'm proud of myself; I didn't cry. I sat, not chilled because the nights were warm, I sat and I thought.

I heard animals moving past. The faint rustling in the darkness, the sounds of the leaves moving. Some of the sounds made me jump; the low growls of some sort of cat. Other sounds were peaceful, calm in nature. Even the sounds of squirrels hopping about, looking for their stashes buried all over the ground. I found an odd sort of peace in this. Now, reader, even to this day my senses are not finely tuned. True, I can usually sense things out of the ordinary, or know when an attack is coming, but they're not great senses...and back then, they were very dull indeed. One moment, I'm sitting hunched up in the tree, and the very next I'm being dragged out by one foot. The snarls, the growls...I screamed. I admit it, I screamed, and I fought back...until my assailant immobilized me with his superior weight. I stared up in to wide amber eyes...

"_Dev?"_

I never got to reply. I never got to reply because a few moments later, all five feet four inches of Canadian fury had barreled in to my attacker. They both went tumbling, growling, all teeth and claws and fury. "Victor! Logan!" I don't know what possessed me to call out to them. For that matter, to this day, I have no idea what possessed me to go after them. All I knew was that I had to make them stop fighting. They had to stop. I shouldn't have done it. I will never, dear reader, suggest you get in to a fight. Not even to try to stop it. I regret that decision. I regret it deeply. I still bear the scars of it to this day.

Trauma has a way of making you forget. Here is what I do remember; they were apart. I got between them. It was too late for either of them to stop. There was pain. There was blood. I stood a moment, not certain how I managed to keep my feet. Oh, right, Victor was holding me up. His claws were wet with blood; mine. Logan had peeled off, he was yelling something. I couldn't hear what because everything was going a bit white. I felt strange, nauseous. "Victor..." I murmured this softly, reaching up to touch his hair, stroking it. Odd, right? Who the hell would do that to Victor Creed? Not me, if I'd been thinking about it.

"_What the hell were you thinking, Dev?" _He shook me a little bit, which made my head spin more. I wasn't. I wanted to tell him so, but my knees felt like jelly, and I buckled. He could have held me up, but as soon as I went down, Logan was on him. I could see them...fighting. I just wanted to rest. The leaves...crunching, as I slid down in to them, hearing my own heart pounding in my ears. My shirt was strangely warm and wet. I could smell...copper, of all things. It didn't matter. I watched them from my awkward vantage point. I watched...and I wondered...until the darkness came again. I welcomed it this time.


End file.
